Heterodynemind

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Monday, August 9, 2010

A prayer is just a cry of becoming humanA cry is just a screamOf a frightening belief.And how do we remember how to speak in tongues, And to flow through moving tunnelsWhile molding the body to fit something else-A pattern not yet seen?Being silent doesn't stopOthers from knowing your unquiet thoughts;We are more alikeThan we will ever be different.Just save the last breath for god,Who pardons all your conscious confusion.That last, most brilliant light you'll never seeIs only a brain being consumedBy the entrophy of existence.The stars are well-lit cemeteriesOf illumined souls, that went forgotten onceIn the unevenness between the boundariesOf time, space and heaven.

The world machine is a label-maker
Of epic size, and tireless duration;
From little yellow stars and red dots twixt the eyes,
To veils, and full seminal infiltration-
You must know that somewhere, there's a bulging file

With names of old girlfriends,
Forgotten sex acts, all time-and-date stamped,
Your prints in the font;
The resultant offsprings, and seedy abortions:
For every eye-blink costs the breeders more time.

They'd like for your pay, to reflect ocean life
Affected by too-long cellular calls;
And those Styrofoam cups, once dropped in the desert
Forty years back, which will surely outlive you;
By a million years- no, they haven't forgotten.

Humans think the whole earth
Should subjugate itself beneath their feet;
Even their religions cry out
That they are meant to dominate this world;
Animal life hides at their approach;
Even their smell is unusual,
Camouflaged by many substances
That they put upon the body;
Godlike, they annoint themselves
With the essence of flowers,
And animal secretions which waft into the air
From their body's censors-
And what other animal can kill or maim,
Without proximity?

Monday, April 5, 2010

Death is a dark tune
That arrives on a dark day
When nothing is going your way
And the storms break through
Your perfectly arranged world
Rattle your windows,
And chill you to the bone.

If you should come suddenly
There won't be hot tea brewing
Or clean towels laid out just for you
I might be in the middle
Of a lengthly novel
Forgive me if I'm brusque then
I hate interruptions.

It's nothing personal
Just give me some time
To compose myself,
Look around once more:
It may seem humble to you
But remember nobody
Has made any assurances
About what's coming next
I want to remember
How this feels.

It may be that
I could find my way
Around your dark paths
Maybe stumble a little;
But pick up again,
Go on having my predictable
Thoughts, make myself
Another cozy place, settle down
We're all just searching
For a little peace anyway,
Aren't we?
You really should
Get with me on this.

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About Me

My prayer is what I do all day/
And think, and say/
I am a stream of dark and light/
With breath, I pay/
For suns bright ray/
And starry night.
My dreams are when in sleep I lay/
I fly away/
To find a string of visions bright/
In faith, I stay/
With hope I may/
See truth alight.